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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28863024">Here with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid'>VeloxVoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Kissing, Girls Kissing, Love Confessions, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Fluff, Slow Build, Surprise Kissing, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:40:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28863024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After years apart, Hilda and Marianne finally meet up again, but while Marianne is only scheduled for a short visit, Hilda’s heart yearns for her to stay. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for their feelings for one another to unfold.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marianne von Edmund &amp; Hilda Valentine Goneril, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayisdreaming/gifts">kayisdreaming</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was a giveaway prize for the lovely <a href="https://twitter.com/kayisdreaming">kayisdreaming!</a> Thank you so much for giving me such a wonderful prompt — it was amazing to write!</p><p>I'm <a href="https://twitter.com/VeloxVoid">VeloxVoid</a> on Twitter if you'd like to follow me for more, although I'm currently taking a break for my mental health :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The only sounds filling Hilda Goneril’s ears were those of gravel crunching softly beneath their horses’ hooves, and the breath of a breeze whispering through her hair. The day was magnificent: a cloudless, azure sky with the sun beating down upon her, kissing her skin in a way that was disturbed only by the day’s mellow zephyr. </p><p>Hilda didn’t think she’d ever felt so at peace. The Verdant Rain Moon had been warm this year, allowing for long walks through the Goneril estate wearing short sleeves and skirts without stockings. Today, sitting atop her horse with a soft breeze and a hot sun against her skin, Hilda felt great. Better than she’d felt in years, since the end of Fódlan’s war.</p><p>Or perhaps the reason she was so happy, with glee singing in her veins to tickle at her heart, was because of the woman next to her.</p><p>Marianne sat quietly atop her own horse, trusty Dorte, gazing out at her surroundings through wide eyes. Her gaze lingered on a couple of squirrels that bounded across the lawns to their left — the lawns that basked in the sun with their emerald glow, stretching for yards until they eventually met the Goneril Woods.</p><p>Those woods had been a place of wonder for Hilda while growing up, traipsing through them on soft feet with Holst at her side. His bow was always raised and ready to strike whatever game they came across. Today, their canopy would offer a chilly, musty shade, but Hilda wanted the sun.</p><p>The corners of Marianne’s lips quirked upwards as the squirrels leapt across the grass, headed back to their home in the woods. Then, she directed her face towards Hilda, giving a bashful smile as she met her gaze.</p><p>Hilda was glad that Marianne had accepted her invite. After the war, after Claude had returned to Almyra and the Golden Deer were patching up their homes all over Fódlan, Hilda had become increasingly bored. Increasingly <em> sad. </em> She missed her friends, what with how busy everybody had become. Her jewellery business was starting up well, but it didn’t fill the void.</p><p>She had missed one person more than the others, though.</p><p>Hilda had invited Marianne in particular to visit Goneril; they could sup together, explore Goneril’s territory, and catch up on all the happenings in one another's' lives. She had been overjoyed when Marianne had accepted, and thus Marianne rode now at Hilda’s side, along the gravel pathway that led back to the Goneril family manor just in time for a late lunch.</p><p>To Hilda’s surprise, Marianne spoke up, her voice reminiscent of the breeze itself: light, warm, and delicate. “Um… if I may ask…”</p><p>Hilda smiled happily at her. “You may always ask!” she replied. Marianne asking was not a common occurrence, but it was a welcome one.</p><p>Marianne gave a wobbly smile. “What is the reason behind your horse’s name?”</p><p>“Oh, Lester?” Hilda looked down at her steed — at his chestnut coat shining brilliantly beneath the sunlight. She stroked his neck. “I didn’t name him. We adopted him from the Alliance forces, like you did with Dorte from Garreg Mach. He came with the name.”</p><p>“I see,” Marianne said, smiling sweetly at Lester.</p><p>“It’s <em> so </em> tacky, when you think about it,” Hilda continued, fighting off a laugh. “Lester? From the Leicester Alliance? Boo.”</p><p>Marianne's eyes widened, the brown of her irises glowing the sweet, rich colour of whiskey in the sun. “Oh!”</p><p>“Right?” Hilda replied, amused at her surprise. “Bad pun to whoever named him! Or just… uncreative, whichever way you wanna look at it.”</p><p>Marianne let out a little chuckle, the noise soft in her throat. “Well, I believe it suits him marvellously. He’s a very dapper young man.”</p><p>As if sensing the compliment, Lester shook his head slightly as they walked onwards. Hilda stroked his neck more.</p><p>Shortly afterwards, the manor came into view from behind a row of perfectly-trimmed hedges. Its bricks were red, with creamy white pillars and an elegantly-tiled black roof. A short staircase led up to its oaken front doors from the courtyard, the centre of which held a grandiose fountain of two swans, encapsulated in smooth granite and spouting water from their beaks.</p><p>“Oh, Hilda,” Marianne gasped as their horses trotted onwards. “It’s magnificent.”</p><p>Hilda cocked her head at it. “Is it?” To her, it was simply home. Marianne, however, marvelled at the sight.</p><p>“Truly. A beautiful house.”</p><p>“Well, let’s head inside it, shall we? You and Dorte have come a long way for this!”</p><p>Earlier in the morning, Hilda had travelled a couple of hours to the neighbouring village of Red Hawk, meeting up with Marianne outside the tavern she’d rested at overnight. Now, she brought her back to Goneril, to spend what was left of the day together. </p><p>It didn’t feel long enough. After years apart, a mere few hours felt measly. She could bask in Marianne’s presence for years on end, she knew — she had missed the other woman dearly. Hilda hoped, somewhat desperately, that Marianne might stay longer with a little prompting. She supposed only time would tell.</p><p>Their horses came to a halt outside the manor, and the four of them were greeted by Evelyn, Hilda’s favourite attendant. After Marianne unloaded her two small bags from Dorte’s saddle, Evelyn offered to take Lester and Dorte away to the stables while Hilda guided Marianne inside.</p><p>“It’s so nice to see you again, you know,” Hilda remarked as they crossed through the entrance hall. “I’ve really missed you and the others.”</p><p>When she glanced over to Marianne, she found the other woman looking bashfully down at the floor. “I have missed you too. My apologies for not writing more often…”</p><p>“No way!” Hilda tried her best to quell such worries. “No need to apologise. I know you’ve been busy. How is it being the successor of Edmund, by the way?”</p><p>“I-I’m certainly not the successor…”</p><p>“Huh? I thought that’s what the Margrave was training you up for!”</p><p>Marianne’s eyes — so wide and dejected — now looked up towards the ceiling. “Well, yes, but… I haven’t been so successful.”</p><p>Hilda stopped in her tracks, just before the manor’s grand staircase. “Why’s that?” she asked, as gently as she could. Marianne was a delicate soul, but if something was troubling her, Hilda wanted to know.</p><p>The slightest twitch to Marianne’s shoulder indicated a shrug. Her voice was a whisper. “It’s all public speaking. Trying to grow more… confident.”</p><p>Hilda searched her eyes: watery, downcast, and creasing slightly at the sides in a frown.</p><p>“This is why I need to thank you for inviting me here. You helped me to get out of there, even if only for a little while. I do believe I might benefit from the change of pace.”</p><p>Hilda nodded. “Of course. And, hey, if I can help you with your confidence, just let me know—!”</p><p>“But I’m not confident, Hilda.” Marianne’s eyes looked panicked now — as frantic and upset as she had ever seen them. “I won’t ever be that person. No matter how hard I try, I can’t be what the Margrave wants me to be.”</p><p>She looked so sad — so <em>frightened,</em> almost. Before Hilda could register what she was doing, she wrapped Marianne in an embrace. Her feet stepped forward, her arms slipped around her waist, and she rested her head against her shoulder. “Oh, Marianne, I’m so sorry.”</p><p>To her surprise, Marianne held her back. Her bags were slung over her shoulders, but that didn’t stop her from holding Hilda around the ribs, resting her face into her neck. “I’m sorry too.”</p><p>It was… odd. Hilda hadn’t ever felt so drawn to somebody before — had never felt the need to comfort them so suddenly and passionately. But having Marianne against her body, effusing a soft warmth and a delicate floral scent, felt good. It felt <em> right. </em></p><p>It was over too soon. Clearing her throat a little, Marianne stepped back and straightened out the pretty sky-blue skirt she donned.</p><p>Hilda ran a hand through one of her ponytails. The delicacy of the moment had been too good — her heart tickled inside her chest, and her blood seemed to rush a little faster through her veins. “C’mon,” she said, an attempt to spur herself back into action. “Let’s go upstairs, shall we? We can drop your bags off in my room.” She slipped her hand into Marianne’s own, which held back unrelenting. Hilda gave it a little squeeze and offered an encouraging smile.</p><p>Marianne returned it sheepishly. “I’m… I’m so sorr—”</p><p>“Nope.” Hilda shook her head. “No more apologies. You have nothing to apologise for. Let’s go.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Hand-in-hand, Hilda and Marianne ascended the carpeted marble staircase up to the bedrooms of the Goneril manor. It was quiet upstairs — the carpeted corridors swallowed up their footsteps and cut out any sounds of bustle from the attendants. Up here, it seemed Hilda and Marianne were truly alone.</p><p>“We have some spare bedrooms,” Hilda said, finding herself whispering a little so as not to disturb the quiet, “but you’re more than welcome to leave your belongings in mine.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Marianne responded, allowing herself to be directed to the door at the bottom of the hall.</p><p>Hilda opened it for her, the heavy oaken door painted a soft creamy white by her childhood self, and took a step inwards. </p><p>“Here we are,” Hilda said. Not a moment later, she felt Marianne’s grip tighten around her hand, causing butterflies to ripple through her stomach.</p><p>“Goodness,” Marianne breathed. “Hilda, this room is beautiful.”</p><p>“Haha! Really?” All Hilda could see was the disorganised jewellery hanger standing at the corner of her vanity — the dresses folded on her rocking chair because she couldn’t be bothered returning them to her wardrobe. She felt a flush of embarrassment; she really hadn’t thought to tidy a little more before Marianne’s visit?</p><p>The rest of the room looked normal at least; her peach-coloured curtains were drawn, creating an atmosphere of a dark amber haze. Her bed was made — the four-poster with dark coral hangings and white sheets — and her carpet, baby pink in hue, was clean.</p><p>An almost wistful voice responded to her. “Absolutely.”</p><p>Hilda smiled at Marianne’s face of wonderment; her smooth, unlined skin glowing beneath the ambient light, eyes seeming to twinkle as they travelled around the room. She let go of Marianne’s hand and closed the door behind them.</p><p>“Make yourself at home,” she said, and watched Marianne bend down to take off her shoes. That sentiment was sweet. “Let me take your bags.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Marianne passed Hilda her belongings, which she hung up on the coat rail at the back of her door. When Marianne spoke, her voice was more determined than Hilda had ever heard it before. “It’s absolutely beautiful here.”</p><p>That came as a shock. Hilda turned to see Marianne giving a rare smile as she perused the paintings on the walls. “It is?”</p><p>“Definitely,” Marianne nodded. “Goneril itself, your home, your room… They’re magnificent.”</p><p>Hilda shrugged. “It’s not all great here.”</p><p>Marianne turned to her with concerned eyes. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Ah, y’know.” Hilda shrugged once more before crossing the room and sitting down at her vanity. “It gets a little lonely here. After my mother’s passing, with my father away for most of the year, and Holst off doing who knows what... It gets a little… depressing, I guess.”</p><p>She glanced in the vanity’s mirror, seeing Marianne standing behind her and gazing into her eyes through the reflection. She looked astounding beneath this light; ethereal, almost, with a blushing glow upon her cheeks and her hair tied so elaborately into its braids.</p><p>“I know the feeling,” she said in her breath of a voice. She crossed the short space between them and perched beside Hilda on the vanity’s stool. It was a wide stool — wide enough to fit two people — but they needed to sit close; Hilda felt Marianne’s hips against hers, their shoulders brushing together.</p><p>Marianne reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Hilda’s ear, her fingertips chilly against Hilda’s skin. She glanced down at the dresser and a shy smile cradled her lips; gently, she reached out to a make-up brush Hilda had left beneath her mirror earlier in the morning — the one she had just to apply her blush — and picked it up.</p><p>Hilda narrowed her eyes, amused. “What’re you—?”</p><p>But she soon broke into a giggle as Marianne began to pat the brush against the tip of Hilda’s nose, plumes of pink powder in the air tickling at her nostrils.</p><p>“You know, if you ever need to talk about loneliness… I’m here for that.” Marianne didn’t meet Hilda’s eyes, instead focussed on the tip of the brush that she patted gently against her nose.</p><p>“Likewise,” Hilda replied, searching those deep brown irises. They didn’t look quite as sad anymore — now, a light hint of joy danced within the golden flecks.  “I wish I could’ve been there for you after the war. When the Margrave was making you train. You could’ve written to me — I would’ve loved to hear from you, even if it was about the unpleasant stuff.”</p><p>Marianne pulled the brush away, and began patting it against Hilda’s cheeks instead. “Thank you… I just didn’t want to be a bother.”</p><p>“You’re never a bother. Ever. Not then, not now. Having you here today has been <em> so </em> nice, honestly.” And the thought that Marianne would be gone again tonight made an emptiness swirl in her chest, causing her heart to ache. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”</p><p>Shy eyes darted up to Hilda’s for a moment, only to flicker away again. “Yes…” she whispered.</p><p>A lump formed in Hilda’s throat; she knew that tightness to Marianne’s face — the apprehension to her eyes. The other woman wanted to say more, but was biting her tongue. Thus, Hilda spoke instead. “You’re more than welcome to stay, you know? You won’t be a burden, or get in the way, or…”</p><p>Marianne shook her head. “I-I couldn’t possibly—”</p><p>But Hilda reached up and held onto her wrist, gently lowering the hand that held the brush until Marianne placed it back on the vanity. “I promise, Marianne. Your visit is the best thing to happen to me in years.”</p><p>She watched a bashful blush come over the mage’s cheeks, her long, heavy eyelashes beating quickly. Hilda swallowed, and felt that light tickling feeling return to the pit of her stomach once more.</p><p>It was then that she realised that feeling had scarcely left her all day. Upon arriving at Red Hawk, and seeing Marianne approach her atop Dorte, radiant beneath the morning sun, her heart had flipped. And now, beneath the dim light of her darkened bedroom, that feeling was amplified tenfold. It felt as if butterflies swarmed inside her, desperate to escape and fluttering up through her chest and in her blood as they did so.</p><p>Holding Marianne in her arms earlier, feeling her skin against hers with their bodies entwined had been beautiful. Hilda had felt more complete than she had in years — finally back where she belonged, with the woman she’d missed so much.</p><p>And yet, as she looked into those incredible doe-eyes, she wondered whether the feeling inside her was truly just from missing Marianne. She wondered, perhaps, whether she was feeling something more.</p><p>“I didn’t realise just how much I missed you either,” whispered Marianne.</p><p>This close, Hilda could smell the delicate floral perfume that effused from her neck, a slight mintiness to her breath. She saw the dark circles that remained around her eyes, the blemishes on her face — a tiny white scar across her jaw acquired from a battle in the war. She was the most beautiful woman Hilda had ever seen.</p><p>She couldn’t stop herself. So close, it took only a second for her to lean in, placing her lips gently against Marianne’s own. They were hot and soft, and a small squeak leaked from between them as they kissed back.</p><p><em> They kissed back. </em> The butterflies coursed throughout Hilda’s every vein as she felt Marianne’s delicate lips press into hers in return. She angled her head ever so slightly as if accepting, and thus Hilda pressed closer. The kiss was sweet — floral scents mingling with mint, hot skin, and the slight powdery musk of her blush still in the air.</p><p>The moment was tender; their kiss broke apart naturally, their hands holding one another, but Marianne initiated it again once more. Just light, gentle — lips together, noses brushing — for long, beautiful seconds.</p><p>When they broke apart the second time, Marianne pulled her face away. Hilda’s eyes snapped open, focusing on the beauty of the woman before her with her blood roaring in her ears. Two kisses, both as soft as one another, taken away as quickly as leaves on the breeze.</p><p><em> Oh no, </em>Hilda thought. What had she done?</p><p>Marianne was so soft — so <em> vulnerable </em> — and Hilda had <em> kissed </em> her? Done <em> that </em> to her, in her time of need? Her heart somehow began to beat even faster. “Oh my gosh, Marianne, I’m so sorry, I—”</p><p>She was stopped by a warm palm cupping around her jaw, and watched Marianne shake her head slightly. “I’m… glad you did that,” she whispered, a slight chuckle beneath her voice. Her eyes swam with emotion — with disbelief, and a strange, elated sort of excitement. “I’ve wanted to since our days at the Academy.”</p><p>Hilda felt her eyes widen, uncomprehending. “You have?”</p><p>Marianne returned the grasp Hilda had on her hands, entwining their fingers. “I never dreamed you might have returned such feelings…”</p><p>
  <em> Such feelings. </em>
</p><p>It was with those two small words that Hilda realised she loved her. The respect for her she’d felt at the Academy; the pain she’d felt upon seeing her sadness; the untamable urge inside of her to <em> help </em> — to cheer her up. And the unending, unwavering desire just to be around her.</p><p>It was love.</p><p>Hilda gripped onto Marianne’s fingers tighter and leaned forwards, their foreheads touching. “Please stay,” she begged, the words cracking in her throat.</p><p>Marianne’s eyes closed, and she angled her head so the tips of their noses touched. “You would allow it…?”</p><p>“Of course!” Hilda said, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “Marianne, I want nothing more. I’ve wanted it since we were at the Academy, and all through the war, just to spend time with you. Just to <em> be </em> with you.” She faltered, the breath catching in her throat. <em> “I love you.” </em></p><p>Marianne pulled away, her eyes wide, the golden flecks dancing within them. She began to smile, and tears began to gather around her waterlines. Her voice came out choked. “I love you too.”</p><p>Elation bubbled over inside Hilda’s chest, and she let out the most genuine laugh she’d felt in years. Her grip on Marianne’s hands was almost painfully tight, but just as she leaned in to embrace her, her gaze fell to her nose.</p><p>Its tip, where the skin was usually pale, glowed pink. The blush Marianne had applied to Hilda’s face moments earlier had rubbed off on her as they'd touched noses, leaving an adorable rosy glow in its place.</p><p>Yet another laugh spilled from Hilda’s throat as she noticed; upon seeing Marianne's wavering eyebrows, she reached out an index finger and poked at the tip of her nose gently.</p><p>"You've got my blush all over you! You look like a little kitten or something, with a baby pink nose!"</p><p>Marianne chuckled — an entrancing, magical noise. "You do too! It suits you."</p><p>Hilda finally embraced her after that, feeling the other woman's muscles relax into her, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. When Hilda pulled away, she made their foreheads and noses meet once more, her smile so wide it hurt her cheeks.</p><p>Marianne loved her. The woman of her dreams, whom she'd loved for years, was in her arms and prepared to stay by her side. It was almost too much to believe. She looked into each of those melted-chocolate eyes, watching fires of delight burn within. Happiness looked so good on her.</p><p>“Can I kiss you again?” Hilda asked, wiping the tears from out of her eyes.</p><p>Marianne’s giggle in return sounded like angel’s song. “Please do."</p><p>And she did.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marianne pulled gently on the berries, feeling the strength of their resistance until eventually they parted from the bush with the slightest </span>
  <em>
    <span>snap!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They were beautiful. Small, with a stunning dark purple hue, looking like clusters of many tiny berries huddling together to form one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marianne laid her handful into the basket that sat in the crook of her elbow, watching them roll across the broad leaves of the greens she’d picked, nestling down alongside the strawberries. She allowed the smallest of smiles to cross her lips; she had gathered quite a bounty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got the blackberries?” Hilda called over to her, and Marianne turned to see her darling — the love of her life — skipping over towards her with her own basket in hand. Hilda’s basket was piled high twigs and dried leaves, the kindling for their evening fires.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have,” Marianne replied. Her voice was quiet, drowned out by the birds chirping from the trees all around them, the wind sighing through the leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their home truly was astounding. The cottage, made from dark wood and a thatched roof, was nestled into the centre of one of Leicester’s many woodlands. Marianne had always dreamed of living somewhere closed-off. No manor house, no being Margrave, no war or responsibility. Just her, and nature, and preferably a loved one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hilda had been more than happy to oblige.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the first opportunity they’d got, the two women had taken off, leaving Goneril and Edmund far behind. Building their own home with a stable for Dorte and Lester,  decorating it as their own, riding occasionally into the nearest town to purchase food and supplies… Life couldn’t be better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Linking together their free arms, Marianne and Hilda walked back through the vegetable patch they’d created in their garden, the berry bushes covered by nets to keep the birds from stealing, and headed home. The sun was just beginning to set, casting an amber haze through the canopy above them, and dimly lighting the inside of their home. Marianne was met by the full, hot scent of baking bread at once upon passing the threshold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet your loaf’s coming along nicely,” remarked Hilda, closing the door behind them. Out here, in the wilderness, the women didn’t even need to worry about locking their door at night. The only risk of intrusion they faced would be from perhaps a squirrel, or curious deer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had happened once. Marianne had been peeling potatoes by the sink, and a curious white-tailed doe had poked her nose in through the window beside her. Hilda had laughed like a schoolgirl at the sight, noting how much Marianne looked like a princess from a fairytale, attracting the wild animals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marianne turned to Hilda now and nodded. “It should be ready now. I’ll check on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They crossed through their quaint little house — the sitting room with its plush sofa, armchairs, and coffee table; their hallway containing framed portraits of them together as young girls at the Officer's Academy — until they reached the kitchen. The baskets were set down on the table, and while Hilda began to unpack Marianne’s fruit and veggies, Marianne tended to the bread.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, she removed the seeded loaf from the oven, seeing that the edges of its dark, crusty top had caught just slightly. A minute or two overdone. But that was just how they liked it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marianne left it aside to cool, and turned to find that Hilda had returned to the living room. Padding after her, Marianne couldn’t resist a smile upon seeing Hilda crouched by the fire, wearing her favourite handmade, dress-down pinafore, arranging logs and kindling around the fireplace before lighting it with matches. She got a small fire blazing in no time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only afterwards did she turn, seeing Marianne in the doorway, and offer a smile. “What would you like to do for the evening?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought flickered through Marianne’s mind — the same one that always did upon being asked the question. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d like to be with you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aside from spend time with me, of course,” Hilda continued with a small wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marianne couldn’t resist chuckling. She walked forwards slowly to greet her love in the centre of the room. “You’re still working on embroidering that scarf, aren’t you?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hilda nodded. “I figured I’d try to finish it tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ll knit alongside you, if that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In return, Hilda broke into a wide smile, her eyes creasing slightly at the sides in a way that looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> — so natural. Marianne loved that smile. “Of course it’s okay.” Hilda reached up slightly on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss onto Marianne’s lips. “Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they sat, side by side, on their sofa, the cushions soft and squashy and enveloping the women as they sank down into them. Hilda picked up her scarf, which had been left with her embroidering equipment poking out of it. And likewise, Marianne retrieved her half-assembled pair of gloves that she’d knitted in thick wool to match Hilda’s scarf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They worked together in happy silence, listening to the crackling of the fire, the scent of cooling bread alive in their nostrils. The sun’s rays slanted through the windows, bathing them in the fantastic light of golden hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This life, alongside her love, was more perfect than anything Marianne could have hoped for. She let herself smile broadly, nestling up to Hilda’s side, as they worked into the evening.</span>
</p>
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